Go Where I Send Thee
by Vanessa Sgroi
Summary: It's Christmas Eve and Tony and Tim must go undercover as Santa and his trusty elf. Written for the Secret Santa story exchange for the NCIS Fanfiction Addiction forum.


**Title: Go Where I Send Thee**

**Summary: It's Christmas Eve and Tony and Tim go undercover as Santa Claus and his trusty elf.**

**Category: Gen**

**Characters: T. DiNozzo, T. McGee, L.J. Gibbs, A. Sciuto**

**Genre: Holiday, Humor**

**Rating: K**

**Go Where I Send Thee**

**By: Vanessa Sgroi**

"I can't believe we're doing this, McGee," grouched Special Agent Tony DiNozzo. He scratched irritably at the "beard" covering the lower half of his face. "I mean, I've seen some lows during my time at NCIS, but this…this…"

"Hey, just be glad you're not the elf, Tony," muttered Tim McGee, as he adjusted his green- and red-striped tights yet again.

Tony eyed McGee up and down a sardonic grin curling his lips. "I thought you liked being an elf, Elf Lord."

"Not _this_ kind of elf, Tony," Tim replied with a scowl. He adjusted the pointy-green hat on his head, the jingle bell on its peak jingling merrily.

"Well, being dressed up as Santa Claus is no picnic either." Tony manhandled the giant pillow stomach into place yet again. He adjusted the wide black belt and smoothed wrinkles from the plush red coat.

The two special agents were currently undercover at a holiday village and petting zoo set up in a local park. Situated near the live reindeer pen housing the oh-so-appropriately named Comet and Cupid, Santa and his elf were to smile and wave while handing out coloring books and candy canes to the kids passing by, all the while keeping an eye out for one Zimraan Baig, more recently known as David Shaw. Reliable intel suggested that the document drop they'd been waiting for was going to happen sometime today.

Tony adjusted the little square glasses on his nose. "I just don't understand how we got stuck doing this."

"It _is_ our case," Tim pointed out, "and with Ziva out of town, there really wasn't much of a choice. I mean, it's not like Gibbs was going to choose to do this."

"Why not? He could've easily dressed as Santa Claus. Can't you see it now? Gibbs as a grumpy Santa," Tony paused to chuckle, "and Fornell as his trusty tights-clad sidekick—or is that side elf?" One eyebrow rose toward DiNozzo's hairline.

McGee suddenly went shifty-eyed and cleared his throat.

The eyebrow fell and Tony's eyes filled with a terrible knowledge. "He's behind me, isn't he?"

"Yep."

DiNozzo tensed expecting the customary slap to the back the head.

It never came.

Tony slowly turned around. "Sorry, Boss. You wouldn't make a good Santa Claus—I mean you would! But you wouldn't really be a _grumpy_ Santa…at least I don't think you…"

"DiNozzo!"

Tony trailed off with a sheepish half-grin.

"I ho-ho-hope you're ready for this."

"Ha! I see what you did there, Boss. Good one!"

Gibbs took a sip from his ever-present coffee cup.

"We're as ready as we're gonna be. Right, McWinklebottom?"

Tim rolled his eyes, pulling at his costume one last time. "Winklebottom is a gnome, Tony, not an elf."

Tony stared at his colleague. "How…why…what…wait—ya know what—I don't wanna know…" He turned his attention back to Gibbs.

"Keep a sharp eye out. We need Baig. He's our link to Zaidi. I'll be over there at the snack bar. Tishner and Chou are over by the donkey pen."

Tony and Tim took their places at the fence, boxes of candy canes and coloring books at their feet, ready to distribute. A steady stream of patrons soon began to file by—oohhing and ahhing over both Comet and Cupid who actually seemed to enjoy the attention.

Two hours later, DiNozzo's ho ho ho was hoarse, and he found himself becoming the very thing he'd joked about earlier—a grumpy Santa. He scratched at his fake white wig during a much-welcomed lull in traffic. "I swear this thing has fleas," he grumbled.

Tim shifted from one foot to the other. "At least you're not wearing tights that chafe."

"Hey, watch out," Tony reached up and lightly swatted at Comet's nose, who was nibbling at McGee's pointed hat. "Ol' Comet's about to make a little snack out of your hat, and it looks like Cupid might be trying to get a little fresh with you, McJingles!"

McGee scurried out of the way when he felt a nose press against his backside. "Thanks!"

Tony bent at the waist and wagged an admonishing finger at the reindeer. "Psst. No flirting with the elves, Cupid. It's bad form and a little too cheeky for the likes of you, young lady." Tony's finger stroked her nose. "You just might get a reputation. Besides I am far better looking than the elf here—you should be flirting with _me_. Although how can you tell under all this, right?" DiNozzo rubbed his fake Santa belly.

"Uh, Tony…"

"Yeah?" DiNozzo glanced up from Cupid.

"Ten o'clock. I think I see Baig."

Tony straightened, looking in the direction indicated. "Yeah, that's him all right. And he's heading this way. You ready, McSteady?"

"As I'll ever be."

The agents waited and watched, expecting Zimraan Baig to near their location fairly quickly. Both were puzzled when he stopped short and nervously glanced about.

"Something's wrong," muttered McGee.

"I con…cur," agreed Tony, drawing out the word as he studied their suspect with narrowed eyes. "Ah, man, he's spooked—he's gonna…"

Baig took off running.

"Aw, c'mon, don't make me run in this!" Tony growled under his breath. "Well, this is gonna be fun."

DiNozzo sprinted after Baig, pillow belly bouncing not so much like a bowl full of jelly as a deceptively soft boulder. The black Claus boots thrummed their own thump-thumping cadence on the ground. McGee was a half- step behind, the bells on his hat and the tips of his curled-up elven shoes jing-jing-jingly madly with each stride.

When he was within tackling distance Tony launched himself at Baig, roughly colliding with him and bringing him to the ground. Tim, who had launched himself a half second behind him, landed on top of both of them. "Hello, _David_, or should I make that _Zimraan_," muttered DiNozzo in between sawing breaths, "NCIS. You're under arrest." Baig bucked beneath him, and Tony used his Santa-enhanced bulk to further subdue him.

McGee was just securing the handcuffs around Baig's wrists when Gibbs arrived. Sucking in a deep breath, Tim slowly stood and pulled the suspect to his feet and, at Gibbs' direction, began to lead him away while simultaneously reading him his rights. "You have the right to remain silent…"

Gibbs' gaze turned toward his Senior Special Agent who was still on the ground. "DiNozzo, you okay down there?"

"Yeah, Boss, just got a little," Tony sucked in a breath, "winded when I hit 'im." He moved to stand but let out a distressed yell and landed unceremoniously back on his butt. "Well, maybe not so fine," panted Tony. "Think my shoulder's…"

Gibbs could now see that DiNozzo's arm was hanging at an odd angle. "Dislocated." His pronouncement blended perfectly with Tony's.

With a grimace, DiNozzo's free hand came up to cradle is bad arm. "Got it in one, Boss." He allowed Jethro to gingerly help him to his feet. He clenched his teeth against the pain. "Must've tackled him wrong—dummy me—didn't even feel it go this time."

Gibbs bit back a sigh. "Let's go, DiNozzo."

Tony could see the word "hospital" written all over the older man's face and couldn't stop the automatic protest. "Ahh, Gibbs, no—don't make me—not dressed like this…" Tony's plea was met with a steely gaze, and he knew he was fighting a losing battle. It didn't deter him though.

"Can't we can just have Ducky pop it back in place. Or you, Boss! You can just pop it back in. You can give me a belt—or a bullet!—to bite down on!"

Gibbs' countenance remained unmoved.

DiNozzo's good shoulder slumped while the pain in his bad shoulder ramped up. "Hospital it is."

"Got it in one, DiNozzo."

***NCIS* *NCIS* *NCIS***

Several hours later, DiNozzo, now decked out in scrubs in place of the Santa Claus costume and with his arm in a sling, exited the elevator seconds behind Gibbs. He moved slowly to his desk and sat down.

"Tony? What are you doing back here?" Tim asked. "I thought you'd have gone home."

"Nah. I told the Boss-Man I could type my report one-handed. Get it out of the way. Besides…"

"Tony, Tony, Tony!" Abby rushed to Tony's desk and carefully threw her arms around his neck. "I was so worried about you!"

"No worries, Abs. I'm okay—it's just a dislocated shoulder…" He gasped when Abby's hug abruptly tightened. "…and a bruised rib," he finished breathlessly. "I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

Tony took a breath to answer but was denied the chance as Abby continued.

"What about tonight?" Abby asked while pulling on one black pigtail. "Can you still make it? I mean, I totally understand if you can't. You being hurt and all. It's no big deal. I mean, you being hurt IS a big deal, of course, but you not coming…I mean, tonight…we'll get along fine if you can't make it. Because I'm going to be there and Gibbs and Ducky…Timmy can't be there 'cause he's got some previous obligation thing…and Ziva's out of town… but Jimmy and Breena will be there too…"

"Whoa, whoa—slow down, Abs!" Tony cautiously extricated himself from her hold. "I will be there. I promise. In fact, Gibbs has agreed to give me a ride now that I have a bum wing." He pointed to his immobilized arm. _There_ was the Day of Grace Mission—a place run by friends of Abby's—Father Jim and Sister Mary-Claire, an alumna of the team of bowling nuns to which Abby belonged. The energetic forensic scientist had recruited her co-workers into volunteering to serve Christmas Eve dinner at the mission.

"But don't worry," Tony smiled. "I can ladle gravy one-handed, I swear."

Abby pushed herself away from him and hopped up. "Yay! I'm glad you're still coming! But I'm going to keep an eye on you, mister, and Gibbs is going to be right there sooo…" With that, the forensic tech flounced out of the bull pen to return to her lab.

"Hey, Tony," Tim said from his desk, "I'm sorry…you know…about your shoulder. It wasn't…I mean I hope it wasn't…wasn't anything I did…you know…landing on top of you like I did…"

"Nah," DiNozzo shook his head, "don't be silly McGee-formerly-known-as-McJingles. You know my reputation as a disaster magnet—it just has to be reinforced now and again." Tony started pecking at his keyboard one-handed. "My number just came up again."

"Still—it's Christmas Eve and all…"

"No biggie. It's just a dislocated shoulder. And like I told Abby, I can ladle one-handed."

"Well, the good news is, Vance himself pulled a Gibbs when I got Zimraan Baig into interrogation and he folded like amateur origami. He's telling us exactly what we needed to know and the information should lead us right to Zaidi."

"Good! That makes completing _this_," exclaimed Tony as he stabbed at the keyboard with his index finger, "a little less painful."

***NCIS* *NCIS* *NCIS***

The resplendent sound of Christmas carols filled the air, along with the savory scents of traditional holiday fare emanating from the kitchen, as a steady stream of people began to file in front of the serving tables at Day of Grace Mission. The large room itself was decorated with strings of twinkling lights, bunting, and strands of silvery tinsel. Long tables took up much of the open space. Tonight the tables were destined to be perpetually full.

At Abby's direction, Gibbs was in charge of carving and serving the turkey at the beginning of the service. Next was Abby with mashed potatoes and stuffing followed by Tony, who manned the gravy with aplomb. Next to Tony stood Ducky who served the vegetables and a roll with a wink and a nod. At the last table stood Breena Palmer serving slices of apple or cherry pie while her husband, everyone's favorite autopsy gremlin, manned the canned whipped cream and made sure each piece was appropriately swirled with creamy goodness.

While he was used to Abby's wide smile to any and all comers, Tony marveled at Gibbs' good-natured smile as served up generous portions of turkey. He jokingly called it a Christmas miracle, and earned himself a glare from both Gibbs and Abby, and probably Ducky too if he'd heard him. With a sheepish grin, he turned his attention back to the gravy bubbling away in his pan.

During a brief lull, Tony adjusted his arm in its sling, wincing at the corresponding throb in his abused shoulder. His gaze wandered to the end of the chow line. Through hooded eyes, he watched Jimmy and Breena giggle and hug while going about their duties and shook his head. They were too cute by far and Tony would make sure to tease Jimmy endlessly about it later.

"DiNozzo!"

All but snapping to attention, Tony's gaze found Gibbs as he reached for his ladle. "Yeah, Boss?" He suddenly found a plate of food shoved into his hands.

"Sit!"

"But, Gibbs…"

DiNozzo found himself escorted to side table and guided down into a chair by an imperious hand. "Eat!" A white pill was slapped down on the table in front of him. "And take that."

"But…"

"We're done for the night. All that's left is clean up, and we've got it covered."

Tony thought about protesting again, but injury-induced fatigue was finally catching up with him. He nodded gratefully and settled into the chair, tucking into the food. The others soon joined him with plates of their own.

An hour later, Gibbs nudged Tony and told him it was time to go home. Bleary-eyed, DiNozzo trailed his boss out the door.

"Well what do you know—it's snowing!" Tony turned his face up to the sky.

"Keen observation skills there, Agent DiNozzo," teased Gibbs. He watched Tony ease himself into the passenger side of the car before rounding the hood and settling in on the driver's side.

"You comin' up when we get to my place, Boss?" queried Tony.

"You want company, DiNozzo?"

"Sure! I mean, it's Christmas Eve. And the girls would love to say hi."

"The girls? You mean your fish!?"

"Ahh, c'mon, admit it, Gibbs, you love Kate 1 and Kate 2."

Gibbs smirked. "Not hardly."

"And they love you too. They tell me so all the time. In fact, there may even be a little something under the tree with you name on it—from the fish, of course."

"What—a can of fish flakes?" Gibbs shook his head at Tony's silliness brought on in part from the pain pill he'd ingested earlier, but still, Jethro couldn't help but grin.

"Well, when I looked under the tree this morning, it looked a little bigger than a can of fish food. But you never know—fish are sneaky like that."

"So are Senior Special Agents."

"And bosses," riposted Tony.

_Busted!_ Gibbs grinned. He couldn't deny it. There was a little something wrapped up for Tony in the trunk of the car. And his Senior Special Agent knew it because they went through this ritual every year.

"Merry Christmas, DiNozzo."

"Back at ya, Boss. Hey, did we get any pictures of Tim in his elf costume? 'Cause I was thinking that would make an awesome Christmas card for next year…"

_**FIN**_


End file.
